Doctor Who: By the Book
by BakaKaiju
Summary: When the "things that bump in the night" begin to move closer, a young boy calls out to the only person who might be able to help him. However, this "Doctor" is only a fictional character from his favorite books. Could he really come to the rescue?
1. Episode 1 Ch1

Doctor Who – By the Book

Episode 1 - "Hero in the Dark"

Chapter 1

Timothy Thompson, known simply as "Tim-Tom" to his friends, is a fairly ordinary young man. He is on both the basketball and swim teams after school, but still manages to find a slot on the "A/B" honor roll every 9 weeks. Mrs. Hart, Timothy's science teacher, says that out of all the students in the 5th grade, he has the best shot to do well in the science fair. What confounds his parents is just exactly how he does so well in school. Timothy, however, knows exactly why he's so brilliant – he reads.

Tim-Tom absolutely adores reading. In the mornings, he reads at the breakfast table (which his mother really loves - not). During the school day, he reads during and between classes. This pattern continues all day and into the evening, which is his favorite time to read. What Timothy has never told anyone is the reason for his love of reading - from a very young age, he was incredibly afraid of the dark. The easiest solution to that was to persuade his parents to let him keep the light on so that he could read. Out of this need to squash his fear, his love for reading grew, but the fear unfortunately remained.

"It is really quite silly" Tim-Tom would think to himself. "I'm already 11 years old, so being afraid of the dark is just plain silly." It didn't work, though. He could swear that each night, when his father came to turn out his light, the shadows would begin to move. He tried to tell his parents once, right after their new puppy disappeared, but Timothy's thoughts were quickly dismissed.

"Timothy Thompson, you are _way_ too old to be inventing stories" his mother scolded.

"This wouldn't have happened if the Doctor was here" he thought. "_He _would believe me."

'The Doctor' was Timothy's favorite hero. He had all of the books, the comic books, the action figures and even a couple of t-shirts. Most of the kids in his class loved stories about the Doctor, but Tim-Tom _really_ loved them. His friends even helped him make a TARDIS out of an old cardboard box that the new refrigerator came in. Last Halloween, he practically ruined his mother's favorite scarf and raincoat, trying to create his own version of the hero out of a combination of his favorite incarnations.

To young Timothy, his hero was power, confidence, justice, and more, all rolled into one manly package. This set of thoughts and ideals helped him sleep at night. All he need do was open one of his favorite adventures and imagine his hero coming to save the day. Sometimes, however, it just wasn't that simple.

Being a young man of 11 years, Timothy found it a hard pill to swallow that his fears would not fade. "Do 11 year olds sometimes cry themselves to sleep?" he wondered. In the past few weeks, the shadows seemed to be taunting him. Building a small tent out of his blankets and a stick, he had been finding comfort in reading his hero's adventures at a loud whisper. But tonight, it just wasn't helping.

As tears filled Tim-Tom's eyes, he listened to a sound he imagined to be similar to 1,000,000 cockroaches, scurrying from the light. He shuffled through his books until he found his favorite, trying to read his fears away, but the noise was getting worse.

Fearing the end was near, Timothy's anguished voice begged to the unknown "Please Doctor, come help me. I really, really need you."

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. Opening his eyes, he noticed the page he was reading from was not what he remembered it to be. The young man was quite shocked to read the words he now saw:

_Don't worry Timothy; I can hear you and I'm on my way._


	2. Episode 1 Ch2

Chapter 2

The Doctor looked quite silly as he frantically crawled around on the floor of the TARDIS. Certainly he had heard a young man cry for help, but where did the sound come from? The lord of time was completely mystified, which doesn't often happen.

"Not in here" he mumbled, looking amongst the cables below the control panel.

"Nope; not here either" he stated as he backed away from the entry way.

He started to wonder if he was truly losing his mind. He was only a few short weeks removed from bidding his friends farewell. The TARDIS had never really been a place which resonated with the warmth and laughter of a crowd. However, the moments following the latest and hopefully last meeting with Davros and his evil creations were surely among the best of his lives. Unfortunately, the Doctor now not only seemed to be talking to himself, but he was answering as well.

Bored of searching, he decided it would be best to take a seat, just in case he was to totally flip and lose consciousness. At that precise moment, the answer, or a least a possible answer dawned on him.

Darting to the control panel, the time lord began a series of diagnostic scans. "If there was some sort of contact made with me, it would've registered with the TARDIS as an electrical impulse of some sort, no matter how small…aaannnnndd…AHA!"

The doctor began stumbling around the ship, much like someone desperately trying to find their car keys in the dark. To make matters worse, he was leading the path with a device that looked very similar to an electrician's voltmeter, if the had randomly stapled a meat thermometer to it. Finally deciding on one spot, he began spinning in circles, finally falling to his knees. With a rather quizzical look on his face, he touched the device to his very own forehead, after which it made a sound similar to a joy buzzer.

"Well _that's_ not very encouraging – it seems the problem is literally all in my head." The Doctor dejectedly stated.

Climbing to his feet and laying the device on the control panel, he was intent on walking away, not to give the experience another thought. The TARDIS, however, thought otherwise. With a rather loud "ding," the findings were complete. Reluctantly, he looked at the results, slapping himself on the back of the head.

"Oh, of course! The findings show a latent bit of psychic residue in one of my lovely lobes…hmm, lovely lobes, lovely lobes, lovely lobes, so nice, I said thrice. The worst bit about this is, if there is a child somewhere that is in such dire circumstances that his cry for my help was that powerful, then I've already wasted too much time!"

Rushing to the TARDIS controls, he began to triangulate the origin source of said psychic energy, with intentions of piloting there with great speed. As the ship began to speed towards the destination, the location caught the time lord a little off guard.

"Hmm. Well, that's…interesting" he blandly stated. "It seems that maybe I've been down this road before. Maybe that can translate to a swift resolution of matters."

The Doctor had a bit of overconfidence in is voice, as he relaxed his posture. Leaning leisurely on the control panel, he watched the view screen bring his destination into focus. As the ship materialized, he stepped out into familiar territory – the Doctor has returned to "the Library."


	3. Episode 1 Ch3

Chapter 3

Stepping outside the TARDIS, the Doctor recalled his previous visit with Donna Noble. Initially, she was somewhat of a "placeholder" companion, with whom he really did not expect to engage in a lot of meaningful conversation. Truth be known, Donna was thick headed, brazenly obnoxious and seemed to lack the intestinal fortitude to move about within other cultures, without trying to alter situations to her satisfaction. Her objections to the events in Pompeii and with the Ood are perfect examples of that. However, it is examples such as these that clearly demonstrate how the granddaughter of one Wilfred Noble carved her way into the time lord's 900+ year old heart.

The "Library" was yet another fine example, but he knew that the time to reminisce was over. The rather odd little device that he constructed was altered slightly to actually find the source of the psychic pleas racing into the Doctor's mind. With his trench coat flapping behind, he darted from path to path, trying to find signs of life, especially those in need of assistance. His persistence was rewarded, as he crossed a short bridge and quickly rounded a corner to find a small group of people, joyfully embracing each other and toasting with champagne. This, of course, was not quite the scene the time traveler had expected.

"Um, beg your pardon folks, but I get the distinct feeling that I'm interrupting a rather festive event" said the Doctor, eagerly awaiting a response.

"Welcome! Welcome, my good man!" stated a middle-aged man in a finely pressed business suit. "You're just in time for the celebration."

"Celebration?" replied the time lord. "I'm not sure that I understand."

"Allow me to introduce myself" another well dressed man interrupted. "My name is Charles Wellington, III, and I'm the financier of this little endeavor. However, the brains of the outfit would be that young man being hailed the hero, Dr. Seymour Wellington, who also happens to be my nephew."

Shortly, the Doctor felt a hand on his shoulder spin him around, after which he found the young Dr. Wellington was shaking his hand.

"Sorry about that. He's a good man, but my uncle just can't seem to wrap his mind around all of this" stated the young doctor, seeming quite anxious to tell his tale. "Now then, Mister…?"

"Doctor, actually" interrupted the man from Gallifrey.

"Ohhhh, a doctor! Thank goodness" the young man retorted, relaxing his posture slightly. "I assumed that you were the first of the press to arrive, so I had my "stock" interview responses prepared. Certainly another man of science could appreciate what we've done here."

"I appreciate a god many things" he replied. "However, I think it would be best for me to reserve judgment until after we've discussed your project."

With that statement, the young scientist let out a warm laugh. "Ha! That seems fair enough."

Walking through the crowd and towards a nearby building, the Doctor noticed that his crudely assembled device was now working over-time, indicating that whoever was attempting to contact the time lord was in close proximity. To top this fact, he could also clearly hear the sounds of a sobbing child, which everyone else acted oblivious towards. Since he knew that he certainly did not believe in coincidences, the Doctor was quite certain that whatever he was about to be shown, he would more than likely not like.

Expecting the worst and prepared for action, the Doctor was more than a little surprised to bed led to nothing more than a book lying open on a table, being overshadowed by strange device which looked somewhat like a couple of lamps attached to a series of computers. Stopping at the table's edge, the obviously proud young scientist boldly spoke up.

"We spent years not only experimenting with the device's construction, but also searching the galaxy for any type of book that might possibly allow itself to interface. We were overjoyed when we had finally found an access point and achieved success."

"This may sound a little dense" responded the Doctor, extracting his "brainy specs" from his inner jacket, before leaning closer for examination, "but would you mind telling me what it is exactly that you've accomplished?"

With a smug look across his brow, the scientist quickly answered. "Why Doctor, for the last 2 ½ hours, we have been receiving communications from our team of explorers that we like to call 'Fictonauts.' In other words, I am the first man to ever successfully establish contact with a reality that only exists inside the covers of a book."

As the Doctor's expression quickly changed to one of shock, the heart-wrenching sound of crying grew in his ears.

End of Episode 1


	4. Episode 2 Ch1

Doctor Who – By the Book

Episode 2 - "Between the Lines"

Chapter 1

"What?!"

"WHAT?!" the Doctor exclaimed in an exasperated fashion. "What do you mean 'fictonauts'? You mean to tell me that you...you actually…what?...let me see!"

With that, the master of the TARDIS brushed everyone aside and began to further inspect the device.

"Quite brilliant, isn't it Doctor?" boasted the young scientist. "We take a concentric light beam and funnel it into this little item. We like to call it the 'Creative Probability Matrix.' After that process, the light is re-engineered once it hits the pages of the book into a hard light representation of the fictional reality present in the book. Now, whether that's a true alternate reality, a sub-space tesseract occupied by these constructed ideas, or something else completely, we have no idea – but it absolutely exists, and we paved the way!"

"Oh it's brilliant alright, but not exactly how you think it is" scolded the Doctor. "What you've actually stumbled upon is a lot more dangerous."

"I beg you pardon! My nephew is respected scientist" insisted the older man. "My nephew is a groundbreaking genius. My nephew is…"

"A completely fortunate idiot" the time lord flatly stated. "What this fool has stumbled upon is a mini version of something known as a paradox machine. I have traveled to the far reaches of time and space and I can promise you that there is no such thing as a functioning 'fictional reality.' Now, my next question, and listen _very_ closely when I ask this, because I tend to be slightly un-patient, is how quickly can you retrieve the scout party? I ask because if we don't shut this thing down now, this reality, _real_ reality, will start to melt away into something unrecognizable."

At this pint, the Doctor flew into action, simultaneously examining the machine and recalibrating it, on the fly.

Stuttering and stumbling to speak, the young scientist finally spoke up. "It's a simple matter, really" he stated, flipping a couple of switches on the device. But suddenly…nothing happened.

"I…I…don't understand" the young man nervously communicated. "What did you do to my creation?"

"Look, the only thing that I'm going to do is what I always do - save the day in a fairly brilliant manner, which I can happily do. What your main worry should be is why is it so shady, on such a sunny afternoon."

As the men began looking around fervently, the elder Wellington exclaimed "He's right, but what does that matter?"

Continuing to work while he spoke, the Doctor began to enlighten the men "My advice to you would be to move into the light and stay there, that is, if you want to actually live. Those shadows are not really shadows, but a lovely little life form known as the Vashta Narada. They tend to consume every last bit of a humanoid's flesh, right down to the bone."

It was somewhat obvious that not all of the men truly believed the time lord's warning. One of the men, arm raised and finger pointed, was probably on the verge of arguing the Doctor's point. Unfortunately for him, those words never came, as he stepped a little too close to the shadows. In few seconds time, where once stood a man, now existed merely a skeleton, modeling a rather expensive business suit.

"Christ!" yelled one man.

"No!" screamed another.

Quite frightened and puzzled, the men crowded closer together.

Finally understanding that all of his wealth could not help him, Mr. Wellington pleaded to the Doctor. "Don't just stand there, fiddling with that blamed contraption! What are you going to do? You've got to save us!"

"Do?" replied the time lord, with a wide, toothy grin. "Like I said, I'm going to _do_ what I always do. Now step back fellas – I'm going in!"


End file.
